The Battle he Could Never Win
by PetPetAngel
Summary: [Slash, WonkaCharlie references to previous noncon] The battle was not his to fight, but he fought it any way. It wasn't he battle to win, and that could be proven.


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The Battle he Could Never Win

Written by:

PetPetAngel

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His eyes are open but they are blind - he sees nothing through those pale eyes - making him seem to much more beyond than he actually was. He tries to reach just beyond where the man has pushed him up - but there is nothing but blackness. It hurts to breath from the whips that had connected far to many times with his body - he couldn't help but wonder if he could move from this bed, just because he wanted to.

His heart was thumping in his chest so much louder than he should've let it - it's just because it's suffacation. It hurts but he dares not cry out - he doesn't understand what started it all, what he had cried out that day and suddenly there is no end to any of it. The violation and pain, the threat he taunts. What used to be home is now his hell, but he dares not to speak to wonder if there were a back door of any sort. The man would not allow it.

He wants to man he had met back then, he wants to comb his hands through that hair, look into those warm sapphire eyes that he dares to miss, he wants that man back. But after it started, he feels that that man slipped through his fingers just as easily as sand - it was all his fault that the man was like this. There is a darkness that has spread to him from that man - and it hurt - and it rips and claws at him as though there were no end to it. He tries to reach but he can grab nothing - feel nothing but the force from behind him and the nails that dig painfully into his slim sides.

Sometimes he wonders if he could've won the fight, but somehow he knows this battle was not his to fight to begin with. But that voice - once caring - haunts his mind with an enticing memory that begs him to remember that voice - but there is nothing but the light grunts and the fading moans that never seem to go away - and his ears ring.

Sometimes, even though he knows he can be punished for it, he cries out - not when he's here, of course not - but he is met with the worried face of his mother and sometimes his father. But he always turns away, hearing the man's soft voice in his ear, somehow soft to the touch but threatening, and sometimes, when it was worse, it mixed with the voice from his memories, and then it hurt that much worse because he would see back then, but have to hear nothing but now.

It is a mere whisper in the dark, the lost voice of a shadow of someone who once was. There iss pain in that whisper, shadow and darkness that dwells in it, and it held broken trust and faith that dwindles by a mere thread of hope that is ready to be cut loose. There is nothing in those blank, blue eyes, but a look of a soul that had long passed through the world, there was an empty void where there should have been life.

Sometimes, in his sleep, it was that voice again - oh how he hates that voice - his only hope. That voice...

And sometimes, he'd hear someone enter the room - someone that wasn't isn't him, and he'd feel small hands vainly trying to help. Each time, he wonders how he puts up with those little people, and sometimes he spares them a few words, "You can't help. It's far too late." But those little buggers are so persistant, and he doesn't like them because when he feels those small hands on his back, on his thighs - oh gods how that hurts - he flinches, and briefly - for the shortest most painful moment - it hurts because for once he feels alive.

And he sees him. So close yet so far away.

And he reaches out a hand, making sure it's real and not the glass of his imagination, and if it was, he would pick up the pieces of glass as well as his heart and curse to hope he would never be so cruelly fooled again. Ah! But it is nothing but glass, and it shatters whatever was left inside - oh how his hands bleed. He follows it with his eyes down his arm and pushes everything else away.

It isn't his battle to fight.

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End file.
